The Drowning Pit
by Trunks lil' sis
Summary: Ray Kowalski is in a pickle. He's found himself injured, trapped in a muddy pit that is quickly filling with water. Worse? He has Fraser's father to keep him company. Slash. RayKBenton


Title: The Drowning Pit

Rating: Eh … PG-13?

Pairing: Stanley Raymond Kowalski/Benton Fraser

Author's Notes: Be on the lookout for any grammar mistakes and Angsty!Ray. I tried to catch it all, but alas, I am not especially gifted in the language that is English.

The Drowning Pit:

It wasn't hard to love Fraser, most of the time. The Mountie in red was caring, empathetic, strong, reliable, and above all else, loyal. He was naturally considerate to most of the population if he could help it, and once you gained his trust and respect he stood by you through thick and thin. It was suspected Fraser would have trouble turning his back on his worse enemy. Fraser was just that type of guy. The kind of guy that was one in a billion, and you were damn lucky if you even ran into the guy once in your life. Stanley Raymond Kowalski was privileged to work with Benton Fraser, even if he didn't let on to how he felt.

However it wasn't exactly sunshine and daisies with him all the time. On occation it wasn't easy to restrain yourself from attempting to strangle the Mountie, especially if you were an American. Ray really didn't take to the almost superior tone Fraser took with him when he had mispronounced a word or used it incorrectly in a sentence. Of course, it wasn't really superiority, because that was closely associated with arrogance, and that wasn't a trait Canadians prided themselves on. No, when Fraser corrected Ray it was usually similar to a parent correcting a child. Also, sudden bursts of consideration and acts of politeness never ceased to annoy the louder member of the Fraser/Kowalski team.

Nevertheless, through the good times and bad times, and despite their differences, Ray respected Fraser and trusted him unequivocally. It took a special kind of person to gain that unquestionable trust as far as Ray was concerned, and he didn't gift it out to people so easily. Fraser had managed to earn it fairly easily and in a rather short time, which in itself was some sort of miracle.

When Ray had transferred to the 27th Precinct and agreed to masquerade as Ray Vecchio with a Mountie as his partner, he had been a lonely little man. Before the move he had spent his time sulking, shuffling around and his performance had suffered because of his poor attitude. But then suddenly after he started working with Fraser he had taken to smiling again. When he went out he was actually social with his neighbors, and yes, he made real friends. Because of Fraser he started dancing again, which before his divorce had been his favorite hobby.

Now that Ray thought about it, the amount of times he had almost lost Fraser was monumentally idiotic. Not in the line of duty of course, because it was dangerous every time they went out on a call. Instead he thought about the times when he and Fraser should have been the strongest, but instead held each other back because of their differences.

Fraser was the guy who stuck his neck out on the line when Ray hadn't been able to recall the details with the Voltair issue. Ray had gone running to the one person he knew he could trust and Fraser had come through. And then again when they had been stuck in Lake Superior on a sinking ship. Fraser could have left him below decks, handcuffed to the floor with the water gushing in. Fraser probably should have gone for a lifeboat, but instead the man had come after him. He had been patient when Ray reinforced he couldn't swim, and Fraser more importantly had come back for him when he lost what air he was storing was his vision had gone. Fraser was the one grabbing him and forcing air into his burning lungs, and the same guy that pulled him along and made sure, at risk of his own life, that Ray made it through the long passageway filled with water.

Recalling these moments along with a dozen others left Ray feeling undeserving of Fraser. Undeserving of the honest man's friendship, and exposure to Fraser's pure character defined by his morals and values. Ray knew he was a better man because of Fraser, but still he was too stubborn to admit it aloud. And if he couldn't say it to himself, how could he say it to the one person that deserve to hear it?

What irked the Chicago Detective more was that he'd never get another chance to attempt to swallow his pride and let Fraser know. He'd go most certainly before he told the Mountie how much he meant to him.

Hell, he loved Fraser, and it most certainly was not in a wholesome, brotherly way. He wanted to grab the Canadian by his shoulders and kiss him hard enough to leave a mark. He wanted to undress the well built man, throw him down on his bed and promptly have his way with him. He wanted to think naughty thoughts about his best friend and then act them out with a pair of handcuffs and some whipped crème.

It didn't matter if Fraser loved him back in that way, he just wanted to be able to say it. Fraser had enough compassion to let him down easy if he didn't want to nail his partner right back through the mattress, which in all probability was the reality. Fraser was probably better suited to bang either Thatcher or Turnbull.

Originally he had come out to his Great Uncle's lake house to get away from Fraser, and if that wasn't irony, Ray didn't know what was. He needed to get away and think about where he stood in his life, and with Fraser, and seeing as his Great Uncle would be passing away soon and leaving the house to Ray's brother, he figured it was his last time to really use it.

He had left the busy streets of Chicago to find out just how deep his feeling for Benton Fraser ran.

Four days ago he had applied for his week's leave, and notified Fraser in a cowardly way--through Turnbull. An now he was two days into his vacation and it would be just under a week before anyone came looking for him.

He had gone hiking hours earlier with the rise of the morning's sun. His mindset had been that a good five or six mile walk around the perimeter would help him settle the aching. He was already fighting off the urges to go back home. He wanted to go home to his polluted city, where his apartment was messy just the way he liked it, and Fraser was waiting for him.

He hadn't anticipated the soil being so slick from the previous night's rain, expecting the tall trees would have protected the lower layers of the forest. Instead he found himself on an unstable slope where the ground gave out from under him. His foot snagged on a nearby tree's root and on the way down the steep hill his ankle snapped. His foot came lose and he slid the rest of the way down in unbearable pain, tumbling over himself and wrenching his arm in an unnatural fashion. By the time his decent stopped he was laying still in a sort of ditch with a broken ankle and aching arm. He had knocked his head on a fallen log as well which supplied him with the feeling of nausea and disorientation.

It was hard to tell in the gloomy weather, but Ray supposed at least two or three hours had passed since his fall. The peeking sun had all but disappeared and rain clouds had come back in, which worried Ray greatly. Moving simply wasn't an option for him at the moment but he was in real trouble if it began to rain hard again. He had no doubt the crevice he was laying in would fill with water and drown him.

His throat was hoarse from screaming for help. His Great Uncle's property ran for five miles in each direction so the chance of neighbors hearing him was unlikely, but Ray knew hikers, campers and tourists sometimes easily stumbled onto the land. But forty minutes of calls had his hope fading and his body chilling in the rapidly cooling weather.

"Oh, Fraser," Ray said, his voice no louder than a whisper, "Come and find me."

Fraser was reliable and the poster child for heroic rescuers, but even Ray had to admit it seemed less and less likely the guy would show up. The note Ray had left with Turnbull had basically told the Mountie to leave him alone for a week and not to search for him. He'd look Fraser up when he got back into town, and he was not to go to the Precinct and speak with the Lieutenant, because Welsh didn't know where he was going either.

Sadly no one knew where he was and his cell phone was back in the cabin.

As the drop in temperature and the knock to the head began to effect Ray's ability to stay awake, the American began to recall the moment he had felt his real first rush of emotion concerning Fraser.

It had been easily enough the very first day he had met Fraser. After nearly being blown up and burned to death by a psychopath's girlfriend, and after nearly drowning and being shot, Fraser had invited him to dinner. It wasn't as if it was a date or anything, but Fraser had let him pick where he wanted to eat. They hadn't talk about anything in particular because Ray was still sticking to being Ray Vecchio and Fraser was adjusting to the change. Instead they had just sat the seedy little Chinese place eating less than spectacular Chinese food, watching a rerun of the Dodgers/Twins game on ESPN via a little black and white television. After that Ray drove Fraser to the Consulate and then when home himself.

It hadn't been anything special. It had just been Ray and Fraser sitting together and eating. They hadn't been friends, but mere acquaintances But Fraser had smiled at him without passing judgment. Fraser hadn't compared him to Vecchio or imposed an expectation on him. There hadn't been anything but idle confusion and curiosity, and it had been a long time since anyone had looked at him without passing judgment before they had the whole picture.

And his feelings had only continued to grow when Fraser had sat with him in the crypt while he waited to take his revenge against Marcus Ellery. Sure, Fraser had given him grief at the beginning about taking the two cigar smugglers in right away, but that had only been honor and justice prevailing and making him that much more attractive to Ray. Afterwards he had sat in content while Ray worked through his internal grief and had not only given him inspiring words of motivation, but of all things had thrown him a birthday party afterwards. Part of Ray really knew it had only been to keep up the Vecchio façade, but Ray had felt special, and he still had that damn dream catcher in his bedroom.

Then oh, boy, Stella had come back into the picture. Just as Ray was starting to like Fraser even more, the she-devil from hell had dropped into his life. His separation from her initially had been so much harder because while she had fallen out of love with him, he was still deeply and passionate in love with her. She had broken his heart with the divorce papers and a string of nasty and uncalled for words. So by the time he felt he was over her enough to move on to diverting his attention to either Fraser or the other women of the Precinct, she graced him with her presence and brought a ton of emotional luggage with her.

It was getting harder to think, Ray realized.

"Come on, Frase! I'm gonna kick you in the head if ya don't show up soon." Yes, sir, he was going to kill Fraser if he didn't save him soon. Heaven help him, even worse, he'd haunt Fraser for the rest of his life. "Yeah, I'm gonna haunt ya forever."

"I'm afraid that's my job, Yank."

Ray swung his head around painfully and took in the Mountie uniform.

"Fraser?"

"I suppose so, but not the one you're looking for."

The Mountie was right. He was far too old to be Fraser.

Ray looked the older Mountie dead in the eyes, neither man moving. Then finally Ray coughed loudly. "Ya gonna stand there all day? Hello, man down. I'd appreciate a little help here."

"Well, I can't help you." The Mountie stood and locked his arms behind his back.

Ray breathed deeply. "And why not?" He struggled to keep his temper under control. "You're a Mountie. Ya have that, that, that whatchamacallit?" He frowned, words eluding him. "That moral thing you do."

"Oh, oh, yes." Realization donned on the Mountie. "However I believe that only applies to current members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

Ray rolled away from the Mountie, fighting past the pain in his arm that shot up to his shoulder. "Go away, then. If ya ain't gonna help, go away."

"Buck up, Yank."

The aged Mountie crossed around to crouch next to Ray.

"Buck off," Ray snapped.

"I'd like to, Detective, but I have no guarantee you won't sleep." He chuckled to himself. "I can just imagine the earache I'd have on my hands if I allowed that to happen. I'm already in trouble for merely suggesting that he could give me a few grandchildren with Inspector Thatcher. Imagine that, he said I couldn't have grandchildren."

"Oh, hell." Ray looked upwards as the clouds began to drop water. It was raining, thankfully lightly, but that was far from any sort of consolation. It would only take a few inches of rain to drown him.

"Who's he? Who're you talking 'bout?"

"Why, my son of course!" The Mountie exclaimed.

In his growing confusion Ray let his eyes slip shut. The Mountie wasn't going to offer him any real help. In fact the only thing he was helping was Ray's growing headache pound louder. That said he was going to take his chance with sleeping. He'd much rather pass in his sleep than drown to death. And he hoped Fraser came looking for him eventually and he caught the Mountie who wouldn't help him. The son of a bitch only had to go for help.

"You know," The Mountie said, "He's rather fond of you. It has been quite a while since I've seen Benton so taken with a stranger. Even your predecessor Vecchio didn't quite perk his interest like you do. That's some feat for a Yankee to achieve in so short a time period."

"Benton?" Ray blinked at him through the drizzle. "Benton Fraser?"

Wait, wait, Ray reeled. Not only was this Mountie claiming that he was Bention Fraser's father, but he had also revealed to know he wasn't the actual Detective Vecchio, which was something very few people knew.

"Fraser's father is dead." Ray glared. "He came to Chicago on the trail of his father's killers." Ray didn't know how Fraser managed it, as he was feeling a tad repetitive after saying it only once.

The Mountie nodded. "I'm proud of the boy. He played the role of the devoted son and brought honor to our family. Benton is a good boy."

"You're so dead."

The Mountie peered at him. "I believe we already established that earlier."

Ray laughed hard, which turned into a deep cough as cold chills rolled through his body.

"You find my death amusing?"

"I find the fact that I'm seeing dead people funny."

Ray was thankful when Fraser's father didn't press the conversation any further. Instead they came to a sort of agreement. Fraser Senior wouldn't sing the Canadian Anthem and Ray wouldn't close his eyes. Somehow Ray felt he was getting the better deal, even when his eyes began to shut and Fraser's father threatened him with musicals.

Hours crept by, by Ray's estimate, and the water began to fall harder from the sky. The level of water in the muddy pit began to rise and Ray came to a conclusion. If help didn't come soon, he'd have to risk further bodily harm. He couldn't just lay still and drown, even if the slick and muddy and very steep sides of the ditch told him he might have a problem getting out even if he was perfectly healthy. If anything he could put on a brave front and battle through the pain to lean against on of the sides. He'd have a couple more hours of life if he managed to get into an upright position.

So as he sunk deeper into the mud and the water crept up to the edge of his ears he turned on the Mountie and asked, "Why'd Fraser send you here?"

"A valid question," The Mountie recognized. "He didn't."

"Then why're you here? If Fraser don't know you're here, why are you?"

"I go where I'm needed, son. A good Mountie doesn't question that."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "You're a dead Mountie."

"You can't take the Mountie out of the man."

Ray asked, "Can't you go find Fraser? You know? Can't ya clue him in?" He gestured to his position with his good hand. "I'm gonna be a little upset if he's hitting on the Ice Queen while I drown."

"Not to worry," Fraser Senior told Ray, rolling back on the balls of his feet. "I'm sure the boy is searching for you. He gets that persistence from me, you know, it's a Mountie trait."

"That's nice an all," Ray's voice dripped with sarcasm. "He can look all he wants, but if he finds my body and I'm already dead, I've got a little problem with that. So ya mind clueing him in?"

"Do you know the difference between a Mountie that breathes and one that doesn't?"

"I dunno, you all annoy me."

"The feeling is likewise, Yank." The Mountie moved out of Ray's line of sight. "The difference is that while both go where they're needed, the Mountie that breathes gets to choose his pace."

"Meaning?" Ray ground out.

"I'm stuck here because I'm needed here."

"Great."

Thunder struck and lightening flashed, illuminating the pit enough for Ray to judge his position in relation to the closest wall of mud.

With the soil soaked with the previous night's rain and the current rain building Ray made his decision.

He didn't attempt to quite his roars as he raised himself into a sitting position against the protests of his ribs, which were bruised for sure. He edged himself carefully through the mud and water, trying desperately not to push on his snapped ankle or right arm and shoulder. He began to sweat as he moved closer to the edge, each movement taking more and more out of him. And with a final scream he threw himself against the muddy wall, shoulder's heaving and head pounding.

"You could have helped," Ray wheezed to Fraser Senior.

"With what son? My magic Stetson?"

"I'm not your son, now go away."

Despite the fact that he could hear Fraser's father talking, he tuned the dead Mountie out, closing his eyes and zoning in on the rain. After he took away the fact that the rain was eventually going to drown him, it really was a nice sound. It was soothing to his ears, and on his skin which was partially numb by the cold.

He couldn't hold off the nagging feeling of sleep deprivation any longer. He needed to sleep so desperately and nothing Fraser's dead father said could talk him out of it. He released control of his body and felt completely against the muddy wall. He would sleep until either Fraser found him or he died.

He became aware of two very important things all at once. Firstly, he was moving. He was laid out on his back and whatever he was lying on was shaking him, which brought him to his second realization. Whatever was moving him was jostling his injuries, which of course caused him great pain.

"Stop it," He mumbled through a cotton mouth, his eyes still closed.

"Ray?"

A warm hand was on his forehead, not moving, just resting. It pulsed with life that Ray found more comforting than anything he had ever experienced before.

"Ray?"

However the voice wasn't so comforting. He had been enjoying a nice nap when the voice helped wake him up. The hand could stay, but the moving of his injuries had to stop, as did the voice.

"Ray?"

The hand lifted off his forehead and he blinked his eyes open.

"Ray?"

"What?"

It took him a moment to realize he was lying on a stretcher, in a small, confined space that he recognized as the inside of an ambulance. There were men moving around him--paramedics, and their actions were making him dizzy, but at least the voice had stopped.

"Ray?"

Too late. Ray growled.

"What?"

He turned towards to offending voice and his eyes settled upon one very concerned looking Benton Fraser.

"Oh, Frase." He took in the distraught appearance of his partner and raised a hand to Fraser's stained uniform. "You got dirty." He rubbed the soft material that had once been red. Fraser regarded his uniform with the utmost care one could.

"I felt it was a small sacrifice for you well being, Ray." Fraser smiled and poured warm eyes on him, drawing Ray's attention from the moving paramedics.

Ray caught Fraser's hand in his and held on as hard as his grip would allow, then tipped his head back and allowed the painkillers to do their job.

The partners parted ways when they arrived at the nearest hospital. Ray was wheeled away down a long hallway and Fraser settled for filling out his paperwork and calling the 27th Prescient.

By the time Ray's doctor came out to speak with him, Fraser had contacted Francesca, Lieutenant Welsh, the Vecchio family, numerous detectives that he knew Ray happened to be close with, and he had left a message on the Kowalski's answering machine. It was cryptic at best as he knew they couldn't come rushing down to see their son. However he notified them that Ray had been injured but he would contact them as soon as he had any additional news.

As it turned out Ray was improving steadily under the proper care. His ankle had clearly been snapped and he was scheduled for surgery later that night, but the doctor was confident. His ribs were bruised and were expected to heal within a few days along with his arm and shoulder. They were treating him for mild hypothermia and overall exposure to harsh elements. After his surgery and a few nights in the hospital the doctor was confident Ray could be released under Fraser's supervision.

He seated himself at Ray's bedside, content to wait with the dozing man until his surgery in a few hour's time.

"Whatever were you doing out there, Ray?" Fraser's hands melted around his Stetson resting in his lap and glanced at his partner.

"Needed to think," The medicated man said, his words only slurring slightly. "Hada get away from you."

Fraser reeled back. "Away from me?"

Ray rolled his head towards Fraser. "I was losing my mind, Frase."

"Have I done something to upset you, Ray?"

"Oh, stop it," Ray commanded. "Just stop it with the pity thing. "Wasn't anything you did."

Fraser curled his fingers around Ray's. "I'm afraid I don't understand." Fraser gripped Ray as strongly as he dared. "The message you left at the Consulate was cryptic. I have been worried."

Ray's spirits fell. Fraser looked so upset and Ray knew he was the cause of it. He really had wanted to leave a nicer message, but he had been so afraid he'd either reveal where he was going or confess to Turnbull of all people that he loved Fraser.

"I care for you, Ray. I was concerned when you failed to tell anyone where you were going. It was immensely difficult to locate you."

Ray questioned, "How'd you find me? How'd you know to look?"

"I had a little help," Fraser said.

From behind him his father remarked, "Can't take the father out of the Mountie."

Ray closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as Fraser spun around and stare his father down. "This is a private conversation."

"Private is overrated," Ray said, tugging Fraser closer. "Would have died out in the woods if I had been alone." And that was as close as Ray was ever going to get to admitting that Fraser Senior had been his saving grace.

"Was there another present?" Fraser questioned.

Ray smiled. "That's between me and one very annoying, old Mountie."

Fraser cupped the side of Ray's face. "Oh, dear, Ray. I believe the medication is impairing your thought process."

"Nah, I'm always like this."

Fraser settled back into his chair after a look over his shoulder told him his father had disappeared.

"You said you left Chicago to think? May I inquire as to what?"

Ray squashed his insecurities in an instant, knowing even if Fraser turned him down, he'd still have their friendship.

"I love you, Fraser."

Fraser nodded in approval. "And I, you, Ray."

"No, Frase," Ray said. "I _love _you. As in I'm in love with you. As in I want to grab you and attempt to suck your tonsils out."

Fraser blinked and moved back an inch or so. He regarded his partner with wise eyes before he swept forward and pulled Ray against his chest. Bent halfway over the bed he made sure he didn't not allow pressure on any of Ray's injuries, but kept the man in his firm grasp.

Ray snaked his arm out of Fraser's grasp and threw it around the Mountie's neck, IV line trailing after his arm.

The hug was nice an all, but Ray had been on the receiving end of Fraser's hugs before, and they all kind of felt the same. They were nice and full, but Fraser could be hugging his lover or his mother and Ray simply wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"Uh, Fraser, I've kinda spilled my guts. Ya got an answer for me?

Fraser drew back, an almost bashful blush over his features. "Oh, yes, excuse me, Ray. I believe I have been caught in the moment." Ray nodded in understanding as his heart pounded mercilessly.

"I love you in such a way that I am incomplete without you. I have felt this way for many months Ray, however I was reserved in my behavior for fear of unrequited love."

Ray drew back from Fraser and flashed him a thumbs up. "Now that's what I'm talking about." He flopped against his bed with a goofy grin. "When I don't got this medical taste in my mouth I'm gonna kiss you harder than you've even been kissed before."

Fraser bit down on his lip and appeared to be pondering something before he leaned down to press his lips into Ray's. He bestowed Ray with a chaste kiss and in his ear promised many more. He placed his hand over Ray's chest and leaned down to kiss him again, fully intending to make good on his promise.

"When I get out of this hospital I'm gonna give you the best--"


End file.
